


Moments With You

by LegolasLovely



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Violence, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, make out sesh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-18 01:15:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20630666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegolasLovely/pseuds/LegolasLovely
Summary: Summary: Based on the imagine by middle-earth-imagines on tumblr: Imagine being a skilled Mirkwood healer and patching up Legolas after a great battle





	Moments With You

**Author's Note:**

> {Warnings: make out sesh, mentions of injury, blood, and stitches, tiny bit of angst but really just Leggy fluff}  
Meleth nin: My love

You were busy counting the inventory in the back chambers of the healing quarters when a knock sounded on the heavy wooden door behind you.

“(Y/N).” You spun to see your friend, another Elven healer you worked closely with. Her grave countenance told all that you needed to know.

The pit of your stomach gurgled and thrashed, dread and worry washing over you as you rushed to the healing room saved for High Elves. Your skirts floated behind you and caught on the stone corners as you flew down the corridors.

Your pace increased as you spotted the room. The door was left open and you ran the last few steps before halting in the doorway. There was Legolas, his bloody tunic sitting in his lap. His smooth, pale skin was marred with bruises and painted with dark blood. Most of it, you realized wasn’t his, but black orc blood.

“Legolas,” you breathed, closing the door behind you and rushing to gather supplies.

“I’m alright, meleth nin,” he said. You heard the grin in his voice. When he thought you weren’t looking he probed a dark purple bruise and winced.

“Don’t touch it,” you said, setting bandages and solutions on the bed next to him.

He breathed out a laugh.

“You are a child,” you said sternly.

He grabbed your skirt, bringing the fabric into his fist. “I am older than you.”

A grin finally swept the shadows from your face. You worked to clean the blood mixtures off his sweet smelling skin. “They must be growing stronger to be able to hurt you like this,” you said as the cleaning cloths revealed deep bruises.

“They come from us, they know what hurts us.”

“You cannot tell me they’re like us. They’re ugly, evil things. If they were like us, they wouldn’t kill so many.”

He took the cloth away from you and held your hands still in his. “We cannot judge an entire race on the actions of the few.” You huffed and shook your head. He smiled and continued, “You’re just angry you have to clean me up.”

In all the years you knew Legolas, he never let anyone tend to his wounds but you. Whenever another healer would attempt to help him, he always forbade them to touch him and asked for you. You swore he would rather bleed out and die if it meant he could wait for you to come to him.

At his words, you sighed. Leave it to him to take these awful, ugly creatures and defend them. It was his way. When he released your hands, you stitched and dressed his singular serious wound with speed and grace. He hardly felt any pain thanks to your deft fingers.

When you had finished, he pulled you by your waist and brought you between his knees. You swept his silver hair off his shoulders, setting the knots straight with your fingertips. You traced his jaw, the lines in his neck, the hollow in his throat and his collarbone, every crease cool to the touch. His loving, liquid eyes stared at you, urging you to speak.

“Why must you always come to me like this?” You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes and ignored the sad crack in your usually sweet voice. “Do you know what it’s like watching you go off to battle and waiting here, knowing you may not return? And if you do, you’re slashed and beaten? And by those monsters you say come from us.”

He stood and held your head in his hands. “I am a prince, meleth nin. If I can’t lead my warriors myself, how can I ask them to defend our kingdom? You know I must-”

“I know, Legolas, I do. But I cannot bear this-this wondering, this waiting, always hoping you’ll come back to me.”

“I will always come back to you.”

You yanked away from him. “You can’t promise me that.”

He followed you through the room and crossed you, holding your hips tight. His earnest stare melted you to that very spot. “I can promise I will always be with you. And I will always love you.” He leaned down to kiss you, his soft lips gluing to yours. You felt his sigh and leaned into his touch, your lithe fingers sliding up his battle fresh chest and wrapping around his strong shoulders.

His hands slid down your waist and over your bottom and he growled softly as he lifted you up and pressed your hips to his. You squealed into his mouth with glee and locked your legs around him as he carried you to the cot.

He set you down on your back and leaned on top of you and you whimpered at his delicious weight on you. Desperate to keep him close, you caressed his back, your touch sliding down his arms until you felt the wound you had dressed. He winced slightly and you sat up immediately, with an ashamed grin. “I have to redo your stitches.”

With a huff, he took your place on the cot and watched your beautiful face as you concentrated on his injury. “What?” you asked when you caught him staring.

“I love this.”

You laughed at his wide grin. “You love ripping your stitches open and having me do them again?”

“I love these moments with you.” He tugged on your waist once more and kissed you with passion, as always.


End file.
